3.2 Fire and Ice

I refused to let Dorian spend his last night alone, so he came home with me instead. Locking the door behind us, I leaned against the frame, watching as he absorbed the surroundings.

"It's a nice space. So many paintings... They're lovely." He bent, inspecting a watercolor of a cottage in the woods, where an old woman baked pies through the kitchen window.  "Did you do them yourself?"

"Most. Some of them are gifts."

Dorian straightened with a curious smile. "If you knew it was your last night on Earth, how would you spend it?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know. But I'd make every second count. And I think it would help, being with someone I care for."

"In that case, the unicorn fields - they were dangerous, but..."

"But what?"

"We could hop paintings. If we never stay too long in one place..."

"Then he won't be able to find us."

Dorian nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Are you?"

I grinned. "Let's do it."

The first painting was called Elliptical. Dorian and I stood on the glossy observation deck of a spaceship, watching as a new galaxy was born.

Fingers pressed to the glass, I watched stars and space material in slow collision, on the path to something new. "It's gorgeous."

"So are you."

The second painting was a twilight world, where the river at our feet was golden as the sunset shining through the trees. The air was crisp; the water tasted like apples.

In the third painting, villains and superheroes clashed in the sky, shaking the world to its foundations. Townspeople ran screaming as we stood in place; Dorian nicked a bag of popcorn from an abandoned stand and we watched the battle rage. The villains seemed to have the upper hand.

From there, we traveled to a war painting, observing from the shadows as a nurse wrapped wounds in a medical tent, heedless of the bombs that dropped from the sky. And in the last canvas, Dorian and I stood on a cliff, watching meteors streak to Earth, destroying everything with fire and brimstone.

"You drew this, Amelia? It's wonderful."

"It's different when it's just in your head." Hand on my elbow, I shook my head at the destruction I had caused. "Building a new life has always felt so impossible. Sometimes I use art to destroy the one I already have."

"Galaxies are created from chaos." Dorian smiled, in love with the ruin. "What we destroy, the universe builds anew."

We jumped from the final painting, laughing hysterically.

I clutched the stitch in my side, still wheezing. "Have you ever seen an old person run so fast?"

"Not for a baguette." Dorian chuckled. "Your paintings are incredible. You are talented."

"If only it paid the bills." Crossing the apartment to the kitchen area, I removed a bottle of rum from the fridge. I returned, pouring each of us a glass and handing Dorian his drink. "Not the good stuff, but it'll do the trick."

He downed it in a few swallows, stopping me before I could refill his glass. "What I could really use is a shower."

I glanced down at our clothes, burned and ripped from the fire at the cabin, still damp from the bucket of hogwash the old woman had thrown after catching us lifting baked goods from her cottage.

"Opal really wanted to send a message."

"She succeeded." Dorian's sigh was bitter as the drink.

"I don't know how're you so... calm. If I were you, I'd be--"

"Angry? Upset? Terrified? I am. But I've been running a long time. And before I met Opal I was running from myself. If I'm honest..." He took a deep breath, pushing it all out. "It will be nice to have a rest."

"That should be your choice, not hers. What gives her the right?"

A slow smile spread across Dorian's handsome face. "Hunters rarely ask that question. And most of them are good. Even Opal has a conscience. Without her, I might never have realized the monster I became. All this time I've kept the painting covered because I couldn't bear to see the truth, to see what I had turned myself into. But Opal forced me to face my sins. The painting is more than a canvas, Amelia. It's my reflection."

"Well, it's not what I see when I look at you. And no matter what Opal says, you are a good person. Anyone can be redeemed. Even Dark Dorian."

"Dark Dorian? Is that what you call him?"

"He's a part of you. Everyone has a dark side, some of us are just better at hiding it."

We took turns in the shower. Fortunately for Dorian, I had a stash of clothes left behind from old boyfriends. I did my best not to peek as he showered. His profile through the curtain was enticing, to say the least. I imagined the steam enveloping us both as the soapy water ran down his body, and the feeling of his wet hair sliding through my fingers...

"Get a grip, Thorne," I muttered, pouring myself another shot.

After we had both showered and changed, I dimmed the lights, except for the ones strung around the apartment, lit some candles, and turned up the music. Drinking and reminiscing, I told Dorian about my paintings and how my love for art distanced me from my family, who had higher expectations. And he told me what it was like growing up penniless in Victorian England, and why Opal chased him to the ends of the Earth.

We were both lost in the past, half-buzzed as we lounged on the wooden floor. Dorian sat back on his elbows. "There are so many things I regret," he said. "Killing Opal's partner is one of them."

"So that's why she hates you." I turned my drink in my hands, trying to imagine the circumstances and coming up short.

"An eye for an eye. Tis' only fair."

But I refused to accept that. "Dorian, they were hunting you. What choice did you have?"

"Several." He sat up, frowning in disagreement. "The person before you was entirely different back then. I killed James because I wanted to, not because I had to. It was my doing, all of it. I brought this on myself. And I want you to promise me something."

I traced the rim of my glass with a sigh. "What?"

"That when this is over, you won't get any thick ideas. Justice comes in many forms and mine is undoubtedly deserved."

"I don't believe that last part - but I will respect your wishes." I climbed to my feet, tipsy, but still in one piece. "Now c'mon. In that painting with the mime and the violinist, you said you wished you could dance one last time--so we will." I asked Alexa to turn up the music. I pulled Dorian to his feet, setting our drinks to the side.

We measured the time in dancing and laughter. One song ended and became another - Caffeine by Lolo Zouaï. Half-drunk from the bottle, punch-drunk from the dancing, we came together like the newborn stars in the galaxy painting.

"How many lives have you really lived?" I asked, arms draped around his neck as we swayed to the music.

"Dozens. Though none so exciting as this." Dorian's chuckle faded. "I wish I had more time in this one--with you."

"Me too." Dorian was extraordinary, the most incredible person I had ever crossed paths with. "If only you hadn't told me who you really are. Maybe then..."

"I would do it over and over again." Dorian pressed his forehead to mine. "You're worth it, Amelia. I mean that. Sincerely."

I took his face in my hands, returning his gaze to mine. If only we could run off into some painted sunset and never look back. If it meant I could save Dorian, if it meant he could live, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

He looped one of my curls around his finger, watching intently as I melted in his arms. "What are you thinking?"

"That I want you to kiss me. And I don't want you to stop."

"Then I won't."

Dorian's rum kisses left me breathless. He hoisted me into his arms, my legs around his waist as he carried me to the edge of the bed. Removing his shirt, he cast it aside, revealing a canvas of toned, golden skin, every inch waiting to be explored.

Smiling, lower lip between my teeth, I undid his jeans. "Sure this is the last thing you wanna do?"

"Dying wish," he whispered back and kissed me into the pillows.

Before we fell asleep, I fastened the dream-catcher over the bed. Lying in each other's arms, Dorian's head on my chest, I stroked his hair as we watched it spin. It was nearly midnight.

I yawned. "Tell me something you'll miss about London."

"That's easy. Jammie Dodgers, English breakfast by the sea... catching the train. When I was a lad, I'd give my Aunt any excuse to ride them. I'd sit at the window and watch the world go by, wishing to be part of it. There was so much chaos and ugliness, but even then the world was full of life and color. Beauty was my drug of choice. It still is... It's the reason I'm cursed."

And soon he'd finally be free.

"I know you didn't ask for this, Amelia. We don't have to say good-bye."

"We just did." And rather vigorously.

"No. Not the sex--which was brilliant, by the way." He sat up on his elbow. "What I meant is that I can leave. You don't have to watch me die."

"I already have. And just like last time I won't let you do it alone. No one deserves that."

"Well, if I'm going to kick the bucket I should do it with my pants on."

"Stop. Don't make me laugh." I pulled him closer, and sighed. "I hate Opal for what she's doing to you. She's the real monster."

"If you knew the person I was before we met you might not agree."

"I doubt that." I exhaled. Dark Dorian had been trapped in a painting for centuries. Now he would die alone - with no one to hold him. As the dream-catcher spun slowly overhead, I had to wonder if he knew what was coming. If he knew tonight was the night it would all end...

Dark Dorian was cruel. But perhaps the world had made him so.

My eyes were burning again. "What do I do?" I whispered, unable to stop the tears from rolling.

"Nothing," he said, wiping the wetness from my cheeks. "Let it happen. As it should."

It frightened me, knowing I would awake in the arms of a corpse. But there we lay, eyes closed as we waited for death.

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